


Gentle

by The_North_Star



Series: We Survived [3]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: (an attempt to anyway), Cunnilingus, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pregnant Sex, The Author Regrets Nothing, and i actually finished this, happy labor day! lol, i wrote some more inquisitua, no intercourse but it's still sex!, oops i did it again, pregnant tua, ten points for me, this time with actual sexual activity!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7970815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_North_Star/pseuds/The_North_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mother of his child should have every need fulfilled.  (Imperial Survivors AU. read the tags. explicit content ahead)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! You all are a lucky bunch. Two fics in one weekend! Happy Labor Day!
> 
> But, no, seriously, I did write this up during my downtime at work. I managed to finish this, and this story is actually finished, so that's one small accomplishment for me!
> 
> While I still have a whole archive of unfinished stuff, lol.
> 
> But yeah, this is my take on how these two would handle a pregnancy. At least, this is one of the more favorable aspects of that pregnancy.
> 
> A child between the two is a headcannon of many Inquisitua shippers. Whether or not you think they should have a child, or if their relationship is amicable, is up to you.
> 
> But hey, if you like a loving Inquisitua fic (with some naughtiness thrown in for the mix), read on!
> 
> (Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars)

“Dammit….”

He rarely sleeps. Especially now. He never slept normally, not as a Guard in the Temple, and certainly not as the Grand Inquisitor, and even as a free man with a name and a sister and a home, insomnia favors him.

“Hhhrrrmmm…”

And Maketh, her back pressed up against his front, also seems unable to sleep.

He keeps his eyes closed. Nightmares? She is much more active, much louder, much more prone to screaming in the clutches of a nightmare.

Not too much movement now. A shifting of clothing, frustrated grumbles. He slows his breathing. Doesn’t move.

“Of all the damned times…”

Perhaps her spine is hurting again. Her ankles. Her breasts.

As she is pregnant, all three simultaneously are possible.

If she is in enough pain, neither of them will sleep well.

“…..Ule'ap, I hate you…hate your bloody…..”

Well, in her state, that particular comment is fair.

He is the bastard that impregnated her, after all.

“….ahhhh….”

Seems she found the source of her pain. But every nerve in his body tenses when he hears a familiar, wet squelch that he’s relishes any time he—

 _Oh._  
  
He is blind but he opens his eyes anyway.

 _Oh dear._  
  


The doctors did mention that sexual arousal during pregnancy is normal. Intercourse was fine with a lot of restraint, and a pregnant individual would be much more sensitive near the vaginal opening.

“…hrrrrrghh, this is all your fault….”

A slender arm pulls her in close.

“Then allow me to remedy that—”

She screams, her foot kicking him in surprise, but when she feels the furrowed lines in his arm she groans.

“You scared me!”  
  
“Who else could I be?”  
  
“Someone---someone out to take advantage of a pregnant woman---you don’t---!!! I don’t know, I panicked.”  
  
“You were caught off guard. There is a difference.”  
  
“You’re incorrigible sometimes. I could kick you. Again. In your groin.”

“I have a better idea.”

Scarred lips press to the back of her neck. He hears her body shift, and when he reaches out to her the tips of his fingers brush her face.

“What do you need?”

“No sex”, comes the abrupt reply.  
  
A groan.  
  
“Oh, Maker, why---I mean, no intercourse, no penetration. Maybe fingers, but that’s it. I just….I feel swollen down there, and when I massaged my breasts because they were sore…”

He kisses her. “I need no explanation. Just tell me: what do you need from me?”

Her hand guides his over her rounded stomach and sets it between her legs.

“Gently. _Please.”_

Through the thin fabric there he feels moisture. And intense heat. And her swollen labia, engorged with blood.  
  
**_Yes._**

Reaching into her underwear, and rolling the folds of skin between soaking fingers, his other hand curls around her waist, ensuring she doesn’t hurt herself while he pleasures her.

Soft, breathless moans reward his handiwork as she grinds herself against his palm.  
  
His neck and the lower part of his face warm in response, but he tries to restrain it. He needs to prioritize his pregnant lover first.

He torments her in response by slowly plunging his fingers. This proves an easy task because she is unbearably _lubricated_.  
The moans rise in pitch and frequency, and when he adds a third finger the moans taper off, as if she’s trying to keep from being too loud.  
  
Is she biting down on her lip? He quickly brings his fingers to where her mouth is and finds her hand there instead.  
  
“Now, now, Maketh. You know how I love hearing you, helpless and begging. Just relax and let me do the work.”  
  
She grumbles a bit but removes her hand, planting it to the back of his neck. A slicked thumb runs over her lips before he kisses her again, her taste wet upon their mouths.

  
Intoxication. It felt like that any time she surrendered her body and pleasure to him. As if being drunk, though the aftereffects were much more pleasant. It was like this before.  
  
Before his realization.  
  
Before her confession.  
  
Before their talks along the docked ships, before the night swimming and the kiss they shared in the lake of Eteleb City.  
  
Before the dance and the drunken revelry (and any…revelries…after that night) that likely resulted in the conception of her child.  
  
Their child.  
  
“You’re drifting.”  
  
Except now things are different. This is more.  
  
A hand runs down the back of his head. A soft cheek, skin pinched and folded, presses against his.  
  
“Are you alright? Not in the mood?”  
  
How could a woman sharpened by politics and efficiency, then broken by the Empire, scarred and initially paranoid of his mere presence….how had she become his undoing? Become someone to trust him and earn his trust in return?  
  
“Forgive me, love. You know it is second nature for me to think. But how inconsiderate of me, when I should be focused upon you.”  
  
How had she become the one that allows him to touch her? To hold him in her arms? _To carry his offspring within her_?  
  
Her response comes on a short laugh. “Oh, please. You wouldn’t have been lost in thought had it not retained your interest.”  
  
He almost responds but she foresees this and cuts him off with another kiss.  
  
“Regardless, I forgive you. And if you really are sorry---“  
  
Fingernails sink into his shoulder.  
  
“---You. Will. Help. Me. Get. Off. **Please**.”  
  
His response is a chuckle. Instead of returning his fingers to continue teasing her, he kisses down her body, lingering just a moment over her pregnant swell, until his forehead rests against her lower belly.  
  
“….Wh….what are you doing, darling?”  
  
He gently coaxes her thighs open. Her scent fills his nostrils. He presses a kiss to her wet core, eliciting a gasp.  
  
“Simply doing as you asked. Now, _Dai’nu_ , just breathe…”  
  
And as she does so, his mouth immediately grabs one of her labia, sucking on the engorged flesh.   A strangled gasp slips from her and he runs his hands along her sides to keep her relaxed.  
  
Oh, the way she responds to him in these intimate moments.  
  
There’s a soft sigh that blooms into a quiet moan. She reaches down. Grasps his right hand and latches on.  
  
He indulges her, gently stroking her wrist with his thumb. Her right hand is a prosthetic but he knows that she senses it.  
  
His left hand parts her labia, leaving her vulnerable to his lips and tongue. He takes his time, the broad section sweeping over her urethral lips and every part of sopping, heated muscle.  
  
“Are you….why are you going so slowly?!”  
  
“To make you scream.”  
  
_Lick._  
  
“I thought you remembered my personal quirks, dear.”  
  
A pass near, but not touching, her clitoris.  
  
“You---you----you absolutely cruel man! **Why**?! Bloody sadist---!!!”  
  
He only smirks in response as her ranting is cut off with another low groan.  
  
Her wetness blankets everything from his nose downwards, and he savors the _delightful_ squelch he hears whenever he penetrates her with his tongue.  
  
“Hnnngghhh…..”  
  
Ah, her body is incredibly sensitive. And had been aroused long before her attempt to masturbate.  
  
An idea comes to mind. Pausing to breathe, he uses the Force to grip her spine and back muscles and keep them aligned.  
  
“Oh, Maker, ah! Darling, what---!”  
  
“Hush, love, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”  
  
“But I’m close! I’m so close….oh, I can’t….”  
  
Her mumbling is rendered into helpless whimpers as he continues to please her. At this point he follows a simple yet effective pattern.  
  
Labia, clitoris, vaginal opening. Labia, clitoris, vaginal opening.  
  
Slow and steady.  
  
Shallow, intentional breathing to keep her core warm and wet.  
  
“Maker, oh, augh! More!” Her other hand scratches weakly against his scalp as he feels her body try to squirm again. But his hold keeps her backside to the bed.  
  
Then he senses it.  
  
Her thighs quake. The hand holding his own clenches his fingers. He can feel her cunt overheating through her groin, an orgasm building and rippling through her.  
  
Almost.  
  
He gives her one more sweep of his tongue before aiming for her clit, working it mercilessly between his lips.  
  
And she becomes undone, with a noise that sounds like a sob and a moan all at once.  
Through the Force, he feels her orgasm seep through his arteries, and he drinks in everything she pulses through their connection.  
  
Fluid splashes on his face. What viscous lubricant doesn’t pour into his waiting mouth flows down his chin. He laps up whatever is smeared on her inner thighs, careful to let his teeth lightly skim the sensitive skin there.  
  
An over-sated moan. Or is it a plea for him to stop? She is still sensitive all over.  
  
“ _Dai’nu_?”  
  
She usually expresses herself with a sultry purr, and some happy comment, after an orgasm, laying and basking in the “afterglow”, as humans called it.  
  
Why is she so quiet? He presses two fingers along the muscles in her legs.  
  
Being pregnant could definitely affect her after any sexual activity, and he had obtained no information on the matter. He detests knowing nothing in any matter, and to have hurt her somehow is even worse.  
  
“Oh, darling, don’t worry”, she replies, voice breathless and clouded with satisfaction. “I….can’t move my arms and legs right now….mmh…that was different….a good sort of different….at least I won’t completely hate this pregnancy….”  
  
A relieved breath he didn’t realize he had been holding passes. How pathetic. To have worried over nothing.  
  
And yet…  
  
“…come here, love, let me thank you…”  
  
The Force brings a small soft cloth from their bedside table to him. He dabs himself dry, then begins to gently clean her up. He folds it, sets it back, then positions himself face-to-face with her.  
  
A deep kiss to his moist lips. Then to the corner of his mouth. The side of his nose. Along his jawline.  
  
He pulls her dress back down and covers her with the thin sheet they use as a blanket. Her body temperature is higher than his, and with her energy constantly being utilized to keep their child alive she is consistently warm.  
  
“Dear Maker, I still can’t move”, she laughs.  
  
He cups her face slowly. “But you are satisfied? Comfortable?” A nod and her cheek raised in a smile.  
  
“Excellent. Would you like me to hold you?”  
  
“If you like, of course.”  
  
He never considered himself a gentle type. But he is always careful as can be, and he pushes his left arm underneath her so he may embrace her with both arms.  
  
Usually they sleep with her back up against his front. Tonight is the first night he feels her bump pushing against his concave abdomen. The swell isn’t large, though it does put a little distance between the two lovers.  
  
The distance doesn’t keep him from reaching his right hand to slowly stroke her back.  
  
“Sleep, love. You need it.”  
  
“I could say the same thing to you, darling.”  
  
“ _You_ are the one carrying a child.”  
  
He feels Maketh wanting to say something, but with her energy reserves depleted, she relents.  
  
“ **Rest** , love. I will be here when you wake up.”  
  
And the night continues to cradle them as Utapau keeps turning, peaceful and safe. 


End file.
